Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“Bridgey,” I scold, laughing. “Not in the restaurant.”
She giggles at me, tossing her head back which makes her laugh sound even louder. I catch Brody’s eye over her head. He doesn’t hold my gaze for very long because he’s too busy looking at her. Our daughter. I’m not sure why I tense up when he inches closer to connecting with Bridget. The truth is that she wouldn’t exist without him. If I hadn’t met this gorgeous stranger in the bar that night, I wouldn’t have my Bridget.
Bridget draws a fat red line across her paper. Her head pops up, and I know instantly she wants Brody’s approval.
“What do you think?”
“It’s stunning,” he says with his brow raised and then smiles back at her. It’s almost overwhelming how natural it feels.
“Are you ready to order?” Margorie, our waitress with tight red curls, startles me and Brody smiles at my yelp. His laid-back attitude eases something in me.
I let out a small laugh and nod. “I think we’re ready. You?”
“Yeah,” Brody agrees, “we’re ready.”
Scanning us all carefully, probably for tidbits of gossip, the waitress leans in and takes our order.
As soon as she’s gone again, Brody settles back into his seat. “Is mac and cheese her favorite?”
“Always. Anything pasta,” I answer him.
“I love berries too. Strawberries,” she says with a little kid slur. “Blueberries, raspberries.”
“Yes, she does,” I say and nod in agreement, smiling at my little girl.
“Berries, got it. What else should I know?” he asks her, genuinely engaging her in conversation and I can’t help how I feel. I love him even more.
So many things had to happen for the two of us to be sitting across from each other in this booth.
It’s beginning to feel like it was supposed to happen this way with Brody. We had to meet in the bar by chance that night four years ago. I had to make my way back home to this town. And he had to make his way here too.
It’s not until our meals are here that I ask him a question I’ve been wondering since the moment I saw him on the patio at Charlie’s Bar and Grill weeks ago. “What made you come here?”
Brody rubs his knuckles against his chest, a sad smile curving his lips. “My grandfather talked about this place. He …” His sentence trails off, but he might as well have continued speaking for all the love in his voice. “I liked to listen to his stories, and he mentioned it one time. Visiting the places he talked about makes it feel like he’s still close by. Plus, Griffin grew up near here, so it was a bit of a homecoming for him too.”
Tears sting my eyes and emotions swell like the tide coming in. Brody and I have had threads connecting us running through our lives for longer than we’ve known. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that we ended up here together. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” Brody tells me, a half grin on his face like this is no big deal. Like our lives aren’t changed forever … and for the first time in so long, for the better.
Magnolia
I can’t say it surprises me when Brody doesn’t want our lunch date to end. He has asked Bridget practically a million questions, and she’s asked him that same number times two.
By the time we finish our lunch, followed by root beer floats —a true treat for my little one — Bridget is on his side of the booth. She draws something unrecognizable, saying it’s Kitty’s house, shows it off to him, then colors some more. It’s a dream come true, seeing them together like that. Father and daughter sit side by side. Brody is a strong, calm presence, and Bridget is light and free.
This is how it’s supposed to be. I still have that feeling, though, like the other shoe is going to fall.
I’m also far too aware that his mother is going to come by at some point.
“We should probably get going,” he comments, checking his phone after paying the bill. I wish I could see the texts, my curiosity rampant at wondering what his mother is like … it’s all so nerve wracking.
“She should be here soon, though.” He swallows thickly.
“How soon?”
“Like an hour?” he guesses.
“We don’t have to go home,” I proclaim, needing fresh air myself.
“She could meet us at the park?” I offer and he nods away, texting his mother to do just that.
It’s then that I get a message, and then another.
“Brody, how about you and Bridget head to the playground for a bit?” There’s a small, but really nice playground next to the public library just down the block. Bridget likes to play there when I have time, which hasn’t been often enough lately.
“Just us?” he questions and I don’t know if there’s a sense of fear there or surprise.